


funny how we feel so much (we cannot say a word)

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Series: a tale of two matts [6]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Dates, F/M, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Matt Murdock's Terrible Life, sort of, this is sadder than all the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Kirsten has wondered, often, how Matt and Foggy felt, when they'd first met their younger counterparts.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She thinks she'll stop wondering now.</i>
</p>
<p>or: Kirsten and Matt go on a date, where Kirsten sees herself and Matt finds someone he didn't think he'd find in this universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	funny how we feel so much (we cannot say a word)

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a funny, "Matt and Kirsten can't go anywhere on a date because ROBOTS/NINJAS/CRIMINALS" and "the lengths Kirsten will go to just to keep Matt's hands off her food" kind of thing and this scenario was supposed to be the last, but I ended up not being able to write the rest.
> 
> _I am so sorry._ also, there is a surprising lack of the rest of the gang. I promise they'll show back up in the next part with some new friends along, but for now _ow_.

It takes nearly a year or so, but one day Kirsten walks into a restaurant and spies a young woman, no more than 23 or so, sitting at a table with her laptop open in front of her, a phone pressed to her ear. She has dimples, dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail, bags under her eyes testifying to plenty of nights spent reading case studies and staring at a computer screen, and she's saying, "Yeah, Mom, I'll come back for the weekend, I promise--"

Kirsten has wondered, often, how Matt and Foggy felt, when they'd first met their younger counterparts.

She thinks she'll stop wondering now, because despite all the little differences--she has never worn a shirt like that, with _Porcelain, Ivory, Steel_ emblazoned across the front in bold letters, and she knows she doesn't have a habit of chewing on the blunt end of her pen--the woman sitting at a table talking to her mother about coming home is _this_ universe's Kirsten McDuffie.

Matt had described the feeling of meeting his younger self to her, had mentioned the feeling of disequilibrium, and Foggy's occasionally mentioned, off-handedly, a slight jealousy for his alternate's better family life, but Kirsten finds that her mind's stuck on her mother.

She hadn't been there when her mother died.

Her mother is _alive_ here. It's--It's a lot to take in, even if, well, why wouldn't she be? Going by this universe's Matt's age, obviously this universe's Kirsten wouldn't have gone through that yet, but she remembers a sad, wan smile, hands thinner than they should be.

She'd been at a bar getting drunk when her mother died.

She gives the barista a smile, then says, "Oh, by the way--could you send a croissant her way?" She jabs a thumb over at the other Kirsten, the one who's squinting at her computer screen and muttering obvious curses to herself.

The barista blinks at her, then shrugs. "Eh, sure," he says. "You wanna write a note or something?"

\--

When Kirsten sits down--two tables away from her alternate version, _Jesus Christ_ this is so weird--she glances over at her alternate self, who's eating the croissant with a bemused but happy look on her face, and reading over her note.

She'd wondered whether to go for cryptic or straightforward--she knows herself, she knows _cryptic_ would probably end very badly for all involved, so instead she writes, _You don't know me, but I've been where you are. Enjoy the croissant. Take a weekend off. Trust me, you'll be glad._

She looks away, just as the waiter brings her order to her table--tortellini, in a creamy tomato-and-spinach sauce--and says, "Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Nah, my boyfriend's coming over--he's the other croissant I ordered," she says. "He's got a habit of snatching food off people's plates, sometimes, so--any salt?"

\--

When Matt-- _her_ Matt, with short red hair and blue eyes hidden behind red shades--walks through the doors and is guided over to her table, she says, "Better not eat the tortellini. Bit too salty for you."

"Really?" says Matt. "I heard it was the best here."

"Yeah, chef must be having an off day." She sips at her soup, makes a face--she loves Matt, but apparently, she needs to develop a fondness for chips and preservative-laden junk food to keep him from stealing off her plate. That, or eat a lot of over-seasoned foods. "But their croissants are _amazing_. I got you one, you'll like it."

"I'll take your word for it," says Matt, as the waiter deposits a fresh, steaming croissant in front of him.

"So," Kirsten starts, "how's the McNamara case?" She knows how the legal, non-vigilante side of it's plodding along (the answer is _agonizing_ ), but there's been an uptick in the number of bruises Matt's been wearing back to their new apartment, and the McNamara case has improved slightly over the past few days. She can connect the dots pretty well.

"Coming along," says Matt.

"I hear one of the suspects turned himself in to Mahoney yesterday," Kirsten continues. "Apparently Daredevil got to him." She looks him over, noting the bruise just peeking out behind the shades. "From the account, it was a pretty brutal fight."

Matt coughs.

"He," Kirsten continues, "should really be more careful. And should definitely try not to tear his stitches again."

Matt, at least, has the decency to look slightly guilty about that.

"But it's a break in the case," says Kirsten, "which I am seriously thankful to him for, because this means our client's chances of getting out of this intact just went up."

"He'll be happy to hear that, I believe," says Matt, smiling, and then reaching over.

Kirsten pulls her bowl closer and says, with a grin, "You're still not getting the tortellini."

"But what if I wanted to--" he starts, then stops, the smile dropping, shock written all over his face. Worry crashes down on Kirsten, like a heavy weight dropping suddenly in her stomach, because Matt looks as though he's just been punched in the gut, or worse. It's the same look, Kirsten realizes, as the one he wore when Karen walked into the office, chatting away with the younger Foggy about the Avengers musical opening on Broadway, all those months ago.

She glances up at the doors, and sees a woman with dark hair cut in a bob, dark blue shades, and a cane in her hand, tapping her way inside.

"Milla!" the other Kirsten calls, looking up from her laptop. "Milla Donovan, you made it!"

\--

They don't stay for long. Kirsten gets the waiter to bag up her tortellini and Matt's croissant for take-out instead, and the moment they've got the bags they leave, Matt holding on to her like he's afraid she'll slip from his fingertips if he lets go. She squeezes his hand as they depart-- _I'm here, I'm not leaving, I'm okay,_ she doesn't say, but from the way he relaxes, she got the message across.

"You want to talk about it?" she asks him, once they've made it back to their brand-new apartment and shut the door behind them.

Matt lets out a breath, sits down on their couch, and buries his face in his hands. He looks shattered, and Kirsten knows--this is one thing she can't fix, not for him. The Milla here is alive and well, healthy and happy and in college, but she knows which Milla he's thinking about, knows what happened to her.

Knows that their world is gone, and everyone they have ever loved with it.

"I loved her," he says, and Kirsten sits down next to him and lets him lean against her, just a little.

"I know," she says, and slips her hand into his, taking comfort in the warmth of it.

They don't talk, for a good hour or so.

\--

("That's weird," says Kirsten, when the lawyer and her boyfriend have left, and the waiter's dropped Milla's order off in front of her.

"What's weird?" Milla asks.

Kirsten shrugs, bites into her croissant. It's been a hell of a week, and the unexpected croissant tastes all the sweeter for having been completely unexpected. "Ever feel like you've met somebody before, but you can't remember where, exactly?" she asks. "Also, I shrugged."

"A time or two," says Milla, sipping from her latte. "Why?"

Kirsten thinks of the lawyer, of how-- _familiar_ she was, even if she can't remember where she's seen the woman before. "Eh," she says at last, scrolling down on her paper and wincing when she comes across a particularly awkward-sounding sentence. How much Red Bull was she _drinking_ when she wrote this? "Never mind. Hey, Mills, I need your ears, tell me how this sentence sounds? I'm pretty sure it doesn't make sense, and _I_ was the one who wrote it.")

\--

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> (yes, MCU!Milla and MCU!Kirsten, in this 'verse at least, are roommates. the worst thing that has ever happened to either of them is finals and not making the deadline on a very important paper okay _nothing bad happens to either of them_.)


End file.
